


Size 7,5

by lavvyan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Fic, Fairy Tales, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-11
Updated: 2009-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All it takes is a zig-ziggy-zoom. Because, really, Radek is just good like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size 7,5

**Author's Note:**

> A John/Rodney with thwarted John/Elizabeth and brief Elizabeth/Kavanagh singing and dancing extravaganza Cinderella AU with a little genderfuck thrown in. Yeah, I know. *goes look for her dried frog pills*
> 
> Sing-along melodies:  
> The duet between John and King Landry – 'Memories' from Cats  
> Rodney's first solo – 'Why' by Bronski Beat  
> John, Landry and Kavanagh about the ball – 'America' from Westside Story   
> Radek's solo – 'Cuban Pete' by Jim Carrey  
> Rodney's second solo – 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' from Disney's Little Mermaid  
> Rodney's third solo – 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' from 'The Wizard of Oz'  
> John and Rodney's first duet – 'The Power of Love' by Jennifer Rush  
> John and Rodney's second duet – 'Cuts Both Ways' by Gloria Estefan  
> John's mini solo – 'Real Sugar' by Roxette

John Sheppard wasn't born to being a prince. He was an illegitimate son, a bastard, and spent the first fourteen years of his life with his mother, living in a small cottage and roaming around the countryside as free as anyone could be. And as poor, but who cared about money when the land gave them plenty? Then one day, the queen died of an illness, leaving King Landry without child. Over night, John found himself declared heir to the kingdom, to prevent the king's slightly demented cousin Lord Kavanagh from ascending the throne.

Not so surprisingly, John and protocol turned out not to go very well together.

"Well, that was a farce."

King Landry winced as his son strode into the throne hall, sure the thirty-one year-old would have slammed the huge double doors behind him if he could. Another marriage candidate to cross from the list, it seemed. "So Lord Wraith's daughter was not to your liking?"

"You could say that." John rolled his eyes and stepped up to his father's chair. "Her skin was so pale it almost looked blue, and I swear there was something wrong with her teeth. And all she was talking about was her hair. With all due respect, sir, that is not my idea of a future wife."

He turned around, walked a few steps, and started to sing.

_"Father,_

don't you know I would rather

hide away and not bother

with this 'finding a bride'?"

King Landry heaved a sigh and answered in turn,

_ "Look, I'm sorry, but Kavanagh's not fit for the throne,_

You will marry, and that soon."

Sometimes, he thought he should have had John's mother live in the castle. Perhaps growing up in the proper surroundings would have gotten some sense into the boy. As it was, John's ideas of what was right and proper were a little… skewed, sometimes. Like now.

_"Feelings,"_ John was belting out dramatically, his arms spread wide, _"all I want are some feelings!_

Love instead of convenience,

is that so much to ask?

Simple feelings, the sound of laughter filling the air.

Not some bimbo's talk of hair."

"Nonsense. What's love got to do with it?" Landry huffed in irritation. "You will marry a suitable princess. That's an order."

John glared at his father, turned on his heel and stormed out of the throne hall. The king sighed.

Why did his son have to be so stubborn?

~~~

Rodney was having a bad day. His mother had died in some bizarre kitchen accident involving a kettle, a carrot, and a dead chicken, and they were just returning from having her buried next to his father. They, because Rodney's stepfather Acastus Kolya was nothing if not keeping up the outward appearance of being a grieving widower, and his two daughters Chaya and Mara had dutifully shed a few tears as well, even if they did have to pinch their eyelids to get the water flowing. The whole funeral was a farce, and Rodney was glad when he was finally home again. He wasn't entirely convinced Kolya had had nothing to do with that accident, but saying so wouldn't only be pointless without evidence – it would be stupid. He'd just lock himself up in his room and concentrate on his equations to keep himself from brooding over his less than advantageous situation.

Except Kolya wouldn't let him. "Not so fast, McKay. It seems your dear mother has graciously left all her belongings to me, not to you. You will leave my house at once!"

Rodney gaped at him, feeling his pulse accelerate. "Excuse me? I have lived in this house for twenty-nine years, who the hell do you think you are, throwing me out two days after my mother died!"

"It really would appear a little callous, father," Chaya twittered, shooting Rodney a glance that made him deeply uncomfortable. "Maybe we should keep him, for a while."

Thoughtfully, Kolya nodded. "You may be right." Suddenly, he smiled coldly. "Well, I was planning to hire new staff anyway. Didn't you always say you were at least as smart as ten other people, McKay? Let's see if you can do the work of six. Down into the kitchen, and if you dare to disagree I'll beat you up and have your reputation ruined. You'll never find a place to work if I don't want you to."

Rodney stared at the other man with a hatred that scared him a little with its fierceness, smouldering like a hot lump of metal in his guts. Wordlessly, he walked to the kitchen door and stomped down the dirty stairs that led into the single room that was to be his workplace and home from now on, where he started to pace.

_"Pain in the ass and his stupid useless twits!_

How can it be he gets all, and for me not a single bit!

It's ridiculous! Just ridiculous! So ridiculous! It's ridiculous!"

With a few energetic steps, he was at the grimy table that occupied the middle of the kitchen and started to dance around it, taking in his filthy surroundings with a disgusted snort.

_"I should be up there, instead I'm here,_

me and the dirt of the last ten years!

Lacking the money to just get away,

I have no choice, it seems I have to stay!

It's ridiculous! So ridiculous! It's ridiculous! Just ridiculous! Yeah!"

Rodney jumped onto the table and danced, upset and frustration turning his movements sharp and angry. He danced until his muscles quivered from the unusual exertion and he started to wheeze, then he stopped on the edge of the table. Pointing accusingly at the greasy kettle that hung over the soot-blackened fireplace, he repeated on a final, drawn-out note: _"Ridiculouuuuuuuuuuus!"_

Behind him, a glass shattered.

~~~

It took Rodney some time to get used to his new life as a servant. After four days of quietly bubbling anger, though, he had come up with an idea. Unless Kolya wanted to buy the food himself, he had to give Rodney some money – it should be possible to save up part of the change, just enough that no one noticed. Once he had as much as necessary to travel to one of the surrounding kingdoms, preferably one with use for a genius, Rodney would flee.

So instead of complaining about the heavy load he had to carry home on market days – assorted vegetables and meat were surprisingly heavy when uncooked – Rodney actually looked forward to each opportunity to cheat his stepfather out of a few coins and himself a little closer to freedom.

He hadn't exactly expected the tiny problem of inflation.

"What do you mean, two pieces of copper for the carrots? Last week it was one and a half!"

"Taxes raisin'. No fault o' me," the grubby merchant shrugged and shoved a dirty finger up his nose, supposedly looking for something to eat. Rodney glared at him.

"It's a third more! A _third_! That's a percentage of-"

"-thirty-three," someone finished behind him. Rodney turned around, his irritated gaze falling on a slender man with short, messy black hair and a lazy smile. He was dressed in well-tailored clothes that Rodney eyed with a bit of envy. The guy added, "Plus a lot of threes behind the decimal point," and winked.

"I know that," Rodney said indignantly, "I'm just surprised someone else does." That was the sole reason for his staring, really. Not because the man was kind of attractive. A little. If you liked the type.

"Well, I did get an education. Most princes do," the guy – obviously Prince Sheppard, or a very brave impostor to pull that off so close to the castle – drawled lazily, causing Rodney to roll his eyes.

"Oh, yes, and what a subtle way to bring your status into the conversation. Colour me impressed and in awe."

Sheppard tilted his head. "Yeah, I can see that," he said dryly. "Not quite speechless, though."

"Ah. I'm sorry, I shall work on that bit for our next encounter. Now excuse me, your highness, while I let myself be raided in plain daylight."

"By all means."

Ignoring the prince's flourished gesture, Rodney paid the outrageous price for the carrots and stuffed them into the bulky sack that was already filled with the other goods he'd come to buy. There wouldn't be enough change today to keep any of it for himself, on the contrary; he'd have to tell Kolya that the prices had gone up and that he'd have to give Rodney more money. That wouldn't go over well.

"Good day to you, too," Sheppard called after him as Rodney hefted the sack over his shoulder and started on the way home. His back was already aching and his arms would give him hell later, too. A good day indeed.

"I'm faced with two miles of carrying a heavy load and sweating like a pig. That's not my definition of a good day," Rodney gave back over his shoulder, not sure if he imagined the amused chuckle that followed him.

~~~

That evening, when Rodney was busy peeling a mountain of potatoes for a surprise dinner party Kolya had announced a mere three hours before the intended occasion, there was a light knock on the back door. Rodney ignored it at first, but the person outside was persistent, and after the fourth arrhythmic rap on the thin wood Rodney gave in. His exasperation grew when the person turned out to be a stranger with wild hair and a pair of glasses that kept slipping down his nose no matter how often he pushed them back up. His simple shirt and trousers looked like they had seen better days, just like Rodney's own.

"Hello. I am Radek Zelenka." The stranger spoke with a slight accent, smiling as he jutted out his hand. To his own surprise, Rodney actually shook it. He scowled.

"What do you want?"

"I was wondering if you'd let me share your fire for a little while? It is particularly cool tonight."

Rodney hesitated. He wasn't the welfare, and besides, Kolya had explicitly forbidden him to bring in any guests of his own. Or socialise at all, for that matter. On the other hand, it really _was_ cold for a late spring night, and the town was miles away. And he was bored, and screw Kolya, actually.

Rodney looked at Radek's friendly smile and stepped aside, closing the door behind the other man. "I'm afraid I can't let you stay long, but you should be able to warm up if you sit by the fireplace."

Radek did as he was told, his smile turning puzzled as Rodney handed him a short knife.

"What is that for?"

Rodney sat on the bench closest to his unexpected guest and set a bucket half-filled with vegetable ends and peel between them.

"Ever peeled a potato?"

~~~

"A _what_?"

"A bride-finding ball." King Landry was very pleased with himself. He had invited several foreign princesses and all the nobility of his own kingdom. There was bound to be a healthy girl with straight teeth among the maids who could hold a conversation that had his fickle son satisfied. Landry would order it so, if necessary.

"What is this, an auction? You're selling me off to the highest bidder?" John wasn't thrilled, that much was obvious from the way his lips were pressed together in a thin, angry line. But he'd have to learn that duty and kingdom came before one's own wishes.

"On the contrary. I will let you choose the maid yourself. But you _will_ choose one of them, is that clear?"

_ "Silly girls will giggle and prattle,_

watching me like I were cattle!" John spat. _"Shoved at me by greedy mothers,_

each maid as brainless as the others!

And the cravat smothers!

And the stupid dancing!

All the cocks just prancing!

Father, I don't want to marry."

"Oh, but you will," the King inserted.

_"I'd rather face artillery,"_ John declared dramatically, taking a deep breath to continue when Kavanagh stormed into the library and interrupted them by grabbing John's arm and swinging him around, his long ponytail whirling through the air.

_"Isn't it great, a bride-finding ball!"_ he exclaimed happily, _"I cannot wait, a bride-finding ball!_

I'll find a maid! A bride-finding ball!"

"Yeah, hip-hooray, a bride-finding ball," John mocked his cousin once removed with a sneer and an exaggerated twirl, but the sarcasm went right over Kavanagh's head as the two of them danced to different sides of the library.

_"Think of the delicate perfumes!"_

"Yeah, they will stink up the whole room."

The two men hopped around the room, John carefully avoiding any contact with Kavanagh.

_ "Lots of lovely dancing partners!"_

"They will choke you with their garters."

Landry interrupted the bickering, barely suppressing a smile. "All right, that's enough. John, behave yourself."

"What?" John shrugged. "Everyone knows Kavanagh couldn't hold a decent conversation if his life depended on it. Sir."

"Ah, but a few of these maids have to be at least as desperate as I am to get married," Kavanagh beamed, and the king shook his head.

John had to get married to remove Landry's idiot cousin as far from the throne as possible. The sooner, the better.

~~~

"McKay! Call a coach, we're going out!"

Rodney stuck his head into the breakfast room and blinked at his stepfather. "We are?"

"Not you! Only the family." Kolya stared at Rodney like a spider might at a fly. Left and right from him, his daughters giggled.

"I'm going to get a new dress!" Mara chirped, while her sister tittered, "I'm going to marry the prince!"

Mara glared at Chaya, "_I'm_ going to marry him!"

"I don't see why. I'm older than you. He'll choose me."

"Girls. He'll marry one of you. Don't bicker before you know which one," Kolya admonished them, but he grinned. "Congratulations, McKay. One of your sisters is going to be a princess. Queen, eventually. You should be proud."

"Tremendously," Rodney muttered and went off to a) call a coach before Kolya lost his patience and beat him up again and b) find out what all the fuss was about.

Half an hour later, watching his stepfamily roll off in a could of dust, Chaya and Mara's chatter still hovering in the air, he knew. There was to be a bride-finding ball for the prince very soon, and Kolya's family had been invited. Probably Rodney as well, but he'd bet his invitation had gone up in flames three seconds after its arrival. He sighed wistfully. Surely the food at such a ball was delicious, unlike the very few meals Rodney could cook which where barely edible at worst and a pitiful mediocre at best.

And yet, poor prince. Rodney felt genuinely sorry for the man. Knowing Kolya's determination, Sheppard might indeed end up with one of Rodney's stepsisters. No man deserved that, least of all one who seemed smart and pretty. _Wait, what the-_

Rodney banged his head against one of the pillars next to the entrance – gently though, he couldn't afford any damage to his precious brain. Still. Smart and _witty,_ that's what he'd meant to think about the prince. Not pretty. _Certainly_ not pretty.

"I need to get away from here," he muttered as he walked back into the house, "the kitchen is too draughty. I think I might be having a brain cold."

~~~

Radek Zelenka was a fairy godfather, and a good one at that. A Zelenka glass coffin always gave the princess a nice healthy glow, his magic tables only served the freshest food, and only the noblest salmon swallowed the delicate rings someone was destined to find if said someone had been destined to do so by Radek. He was a genius, a legend in his own time, and he loved his job.

Sitting in his cluttered office, tinkering with a broken mirror that showed the castle privy instead of the truth, and very aware of his duty concerning the plot, Radek started to sing.

_"I'm very good at this,_

I can make any lovers kiss

with a little enchantment or spell, zig-ziggy-zoom, zig-ziggy-zoom!

Yessir, I'm good at this,

the romantic and happy fizz,

every couple's advantage is my zig-ziggy-zoom, zig-ziggy-zoom!"

He jumped up and danced energetically around the room, quickly joined by an entourage of mice, dogs, chickens, and magic hat stands.

_ "They call it destiny, fate, but it is me, Radek Zelenka._

Need a new groom? A magic broom?

Just make a wish and then swish! I will at once deliver to you

that very thing! I'm outstanding!

So trust me, Sir or Miss,

because I'm really good at this!

All it takes is a zig-ziggy-zoom, zig-ziggy-zoom, zig-ziggy-zoom!"

They ended up rumbaing around the table all night, with the magic mirror an early victim of the cheerful hubbub, but it didn't matter. Radek could fix it.

~~~

Another market day, and the whole town was buzzing with excitement. The ball was to be held that weekend, which was a cause for chatter and nervous giggling in almost every house. Everyone was thrilled.

Well, almost everyone. John was feeling decidedly glum – the less time remained until the ball, the more dejected he became. To cheer himself up, he had decided to wander into town and see if he couldn't find that guy again, the one with the sharp tongue. Their brief encounter had been strangely entertaining, a refreshing change from the boring conversations and reverent behaviour John was usually subjected to. He thought wistfully of the life he'd led before his father had taken him away from the small cottage that had been his world. He'd been free then, without anyone to tell him what to do – well, besides his mother, but she'd generally just let him run – or how not to behave. He'd had friends then, too. Ones who'd look him in the eye and tell him if he was being an ass. Like the guy from the market. If he could find that man once more, maybe the inevitable bickering would distract him from his impending marriage.

People bowed left and right and beamed at him as John walked down the dirty cobblestone streets. He hated it but smiled brightly, remembering one of his first lessons as a prince: never reveal your true thoughts to the common folk.

"You know, you'd probably convince more people of your exuberance if you didn't grit your teeth when you think no one's looking."

The forced smile transformed into a smirk as John turned around. Bright blue eyes mustered him critically, and just like last time he was being scowled at rather than bowed to. That behaviour should have been annoying, but strangely, it wasn't. Maybe because the intent behind the harsh words wasn't true malice but simply a very honest observation. Sarcasm seemed to be the man's default setting, and yet John kind of liked him. He was convinced that most of the bluster was just for show.

"I'm not feeling very exuberant," he admitted, leaning casually against the wall of the building the guy had just left. "I feel like a piece of cattle."

"Well, if it cheers you up, I think the general consent is that you're a stud rather than a bull."

John raised an eyebrow and the other man flushed, looking very much like he was wishing he hadn't said that. He didn't back down, though, instead raised his chin and stared at John in defiance. "You know," the prince drawled, "I didn't quite catch your name last time."

"What, and you expect me to tell you now so you can properly have me prosecuted for disrespecting the crown or something equally demented? I don't think so."

"I'm not having you prosecuted because you're honest," John said with exasperation. "Besides, I could just kill you here on the spot and no one would ask why."

"True."

There was a pause when they merely looked at each other.

"So?" John prompted, and the other man flushed again.

"Oh. Right. Uh. Rodney McKay." McKay held out his hand and John shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Rodney. I'm John Sheppard."

"Yes, yes, delighted. Now if you'll excuse me," Rodney picked up the roughly woven sack at his feet and hefted it over his shoulder, "I'm on a rather tight schedule."

"That's all right, I have nothing to do right now." Rodney threw John a sidelong glance at that but didn't comment. Instead, he started to talk about the shops and people they were passing, little pieces of gossip that shouldn't have been as amusing if not for the manner in which they were delivered. Sarcasm _was_ Rodney's default setting, and John found himself smiling more often than not at his companion's animated gesticulating and the way his face plainly showed whatever he was thinking. Rodney was a quirky kind of cute, even though John knew he wasn't supposed to think like that about another man. But maybe they could be friends.

John inwardly shook his head at himself – maybe he should introduce himself as a bride; he was certainly girlish enough.

The chatter ebbed away once they left the town, though, which left John looking for a way to break the silence. "So, Rodney." He jutted his chin at the sack Rodney was carrying. "Getting raided for vitamins again?"

Rodney snorted. "I wish. Although I have to say that fabric is a lot easier to carry than potatoes and half pigs. My stepfather and his dim-witted offspring have been invited to your ball, and I'm supposed to sew them the appropriate clothing. _Me,_ can you believe that? Like I've ever held a needle before! I'm a genius, not a seamstress. They'll probably want frills, too."

Right. The ball.

Just like that, John's good mood evaporated. He stopped in the middle of the road and scratched his head. "Yeah, about that. I should probably go and see that my own tailor doesn't dress me in orange or something like that."

Rodney just nodded and walked on, so John sighed, turned around, and started on the long way back. He didn't even know what he'd expected from the other man.

"Hey, Sheppard!" Rodney called after him a few seconds later, "I hope you'll find a reasonably intelligent wife. Um. I mean, I, uh, I hope you'll find someone you like." His voice sounded sincere, if a little uncertain. It was the nicest thing John had heard all week.

Smiling slightly, John briefly turned and gave Rodney a thumb's up.

That's what he hoped, too.

~~~

"This is ridiculous!" Rodney flung the needle aside and sucked at the drop of blood that welled up where he'd pricked his finger, hoping he wouldn't get gangrene. He was no seamstress, nor a tailor, his sense of fashion sucked and there was just no way the damn dresses and Kolya's suit – demanded to be a perfect fit, like Rodney knew how to take proper measures – would be finished in time for tomorrow's ball. Not if Rodney McKay was working on them.

Sighing, he picked up the thin light green cloth that was supposed to be Mara's gown and promptly left a bloodstain. With a heartfelt groan he threw the fabric back onto the kitchen table. "Oh, that's just perfect. Kolya's going to kill me."

Leaning forward, Rodney rested his head on the kitchen table and closed his eyes. Why couldn't those dresses just sew themselves? That would solve everything comfortably.

"If you wish it so," a voice said behind him, causing Rodney to jerk upright and spin around, nearly falling off the bench in the process. His heart was racing as he stared disbelievingly at Radek Zelenka, who was smiling cheerfully like it was every day he appeared in other people's kitchen when the door was locked from the inside.

"How the hell did you get in?" Rodney demanded. Zelenka simply waved his hand.

"I am a fairy godfather. I can go anywhere I want."

"A fairy godfather," Rodney repeated flatly.

Radek nodded.

"And you're here to help me."

Radek nodded again.

"I think you should go back to the lunatics' asylum you came from and start taking the pills they give you."

Radek rolled his eyes. "I do not care if you believe me. You wished for help, so I will help you, Rodney."

"All right." Rodney folded his arms over his chest and looked expectantly at the piles of cloth on the kitchen table. "Magic away."

"Step aside," Radek commanded, satisfied when Rodney did so. He gestured grandly at the table, little sparks twinkling around his hands. "Zig-ziggy-zoom!"

"_Zig-ziggy-zoom_?" Rodney echoed incredulously.

"Shut up."

~~~

"And smile," his father ordered. "Look at all the guests. There have to be a few you won't find boring." He gestured at the room at large, which was indeed filled with hopeful young women. John found himself subjected to shy glances and outright ogling; the air of greedy anticipation was making him sick. There was really no way to get out of choosing a bride tonight. He had to give that to his father: King Landry could be incredibly pushy.

"I wonder how you'll make me get it up in my wedding night," John muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir." John straightened. "Nothing at all."

He put on a smile, ignored Kavanagh's giddy delight at being faced with so many girls at once, and started to dance. As the evening progressed, he found himself being handed from one silly princess or nobleman's daughter to the next, listening to mindless chatter and wishing he was miles away. He wondered which of the maids he was dancing with were Rodney's stepsisters. He'd tried to spot them, but none of the gowns looked particularly skewed, so either they weren't here after all, or Rodney had discovered some unexpected dressmaking talents.

Rodney. John sighed. If Rodney were there, he'd have someone to talk to. They could seize a corner of the ballroom along with a few tablets of canapés and make fun of the other guests. That would be much more enjoyable than this farce.

"Prince Sheppard. If I may present my daughters?" a dark-haired gentleman with a scar along his cheek approached him, flanked by two blushing girls who giggled shyly behind their fans. "This is Chaya," the redhead sank into a deep curtsey, "and this is Mara." Chaya's blonde sister curtseyed as well, throwing John a coy glance from behind he long, pale lashes.

"A pleasure." John smiled charmingly, not caring that his cheeks were starting to hurt. He offered his arm to the older sister, the redhead. "Shall we dance, Miss?"

He wondered if Rodney had ever had to dance through the whole night. Probably not.

~~~

Rodney was sulking, and he knew it. His stepfamily was off to the ball and he was left at home with a load of crappy work, like polishing the staircase _again._ Despite the basic unfairness of that alone, he also wondered how the prince was doing. Sheppard had seemed genuinely unhappy about the prospect of marriage and despite having met the man only twice, Rodney found he preferred to see Sheppard give that ironic little smirk of his instead of frowning in dark brooding. How much worse would Sheppard feel if he accidentally married one of Rodney's demented stepsisters? No man deserved those greedy little harpies, least of all a decent guy like the prince.

"I wish I could warn him," he muttered and half-heartedly wiped the sopping cloth over the highest step. "I could at least tell him which ones not to choose."

"If you wish it so."

With a yelp Rodney jerked around and knocked the bucket over with his elbow. Dirty water sloshed all over his clothes and the stairs, leaving him wet in uncomfortable places as he, once again, stared disbelievingly at Radek Zelenka. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?" he snapped, but his voice was still too breathless to give the accusation any real impact.

"I am here to help. You want to go save your handsome prince from the clutches of evil virgins, yes?"

"You make me sound like a gay knight," Rodney complained but his thoughts were racing. If he could go to the ball… if he could see Sheppard and point out his sisters… and perhaps stay for a little while, have some food and drink, talk with Sheppard about nothing in particular, that would be nice. He could distract the prince for a while, perhaps even make him smile.

Not that he had any serious emotional investment in seeing Sheppard smile. He was simply… sympathetic, that was all.

"So? Do you want to go and see the prince or not?" Radek wanted to know, tapping his finger on the staircase's wood railing.

Rodney hesitated, thinking of Kolya. "Well, as long as no one recognises me."

"Oh, I do not think that will be a problem." Radek shook out his hands and wiggled his fingers, smiling slightly as he cocked his head at Rodney. "There is only one way for you to go to the ball tonight."

"Excuse me? What do you m-"

"Zig-ziggy-_zoom_!"

~~~

The carriage that had been a pumpkin rolled off into the night, pulled by horses that had been mice, steered by a coachman that had been a frog, and carrying a swearing maid that had been a man. Her short blonde hair was hidden underneath a delicate wig that playfully reached down right to the top of her gorgeous gown. Its light blue colour complimented the young girl's eyes, and its clever cut caressed her cleavage in a way that was bound to have her being noticed. Meredith – for Rodney had decided that if he had to be a girl it'd save at least some confusion if he simply went with his mother's name – rearranged the seat of her breasts once again, cursed the endless layers of her stockings and started to sing bitterly.

_ "This is typical! I knew I should have asked him!_

And still, I can't believe he really had the gall!

Now look: I have giant breasts, a dress and all the rest,

and gone are all my muscles and my… well."

Uncomfortably, Meredith squirmed on her cushioned seat, painfully aware of the lack of certain things were they should have been. Radek had made her walk all around the house and up and down the stairs and along the gravel road for nearly an hour, to help her find her balance, as he'd said. Meredith didn't feel very balanced right now.

_"And I never knew that tits could be this heavy!_

It's a wonder that those girls can even walk.

And this corset steals my air, and really, that's not fair

because all I want is find the prince and talk,

goddammit!"

Meredith slammed her fist against the intricately decorated coach door, gasping at the unexpected pain. Apparently, women were a lot more breakable than men, or perhaps it was the missing muscle mass. Rodney's work-roughened hand had been swapped for the delicate appendage of a girl who'd never lifted a kettle in her life. Cradling her throbbing fist in her other hand, Meredith cursed again. This sucked so bad she actually lacked the proper words to describe it.

_ "Look at me, I'm a girl, _

So thin, so small,

in a stupid frilly ball gown with a goddamn powdered wig

and the real kicker? That's not all!

So look at me, I'm a girl

and still I go

off to get the handsome prince away from my stepsisters from hell!

Will it work though? God, I hope."

Squeaking faintly and still trailing faint curses, the carriage rumbled off into the dark.

~~~

John had turned toward the doors without much hope when the arrival of yet another hopeful bride-to-be had been announced. Then a small light blue whirlwind had stormed into the ballroom, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him off to the dance floor. A brief confusion over who was leading had followed, then they were waltzing around the room. The maid jutted her chin at Sir Kolya and his daughters. "Trust me, if you have to marry, those two are the ones you don't want on your list of potential candidates."

John found himself smirking for the first time that night. "I know I'm quite the catch, but badmouthing your rivals isn't really the way to go here."

"Oh, please," the maid rolled her eyes, "don't flatter yourself. I'm not here to marry you."

That made John actually stumble over the next step. "You're not?" he asked once he had caught his balance, convinced he must have heard that wrong.

"No! I mean, I'm sure you're a decent guy and all, but you and me? Trust me, it wouldn't work. I'm a girl for just one night."

"That's… honest."

"What?" The girl flushed as she realised what she had said. "I didn't mean _that,_ obviously. Are you demented?"

John surprised himself by letting out an amused snort. This was the most fun he'd had all day. Grinning, he nodded at his dance partner. "You know, I didn't quite catch your name before."

"What, and you expect me to tell you now so you can, uh, have me locked away in a monastery for questioning your manhood or something equally macho? I don't think so."

"I'm not going to have you locked away in a monastery," John answered, his exasperation connected to a strange sense of déjà vu. The maid eyed him, mistrust obvious on her expressive face, until John raised both eyebrows at her.

"Meredith," she muttered, averting her eyes.

"Pleased to meet you, Meredith. I'm John Sheppard."

She huffed impatiently at that and John couldn't help grinning again. "So, Meredith. That's a very nice dress you're wearing."

"That's not a dress, it's a tragedy in frill. One unfortunate hiccup and my breasts will jump out of this thing – and don't get me started on these slippers! I really don't know how anyone could think glass footwear might be a good idea." She kept complaining about the hell that was dressing up for a ball, and John listened with growing bemusement. Not that he wasn't having a great time, but for some reason Meredith seemed eerily familiar. Finally, he made the connection and could have kicked himself for not noticing it earlier. If you knew what to look for, the similarity was stunning.

"Say, do you know a Rodney?"

Meredith paled. "No! I mean, what? No, I, uh, pffff- Rodney who?"

"Never mind." John shook his head. Must have been wishful thinking. Though why he would still wish for Rodney when Meredith was perfectly fascinating on her own was beyond him. Maybe it was the eyes. Making a decision, John reached for the girl's arm. "Come on. Let's catch a breath."

~~~

They stepped outside on a wide balcony that was connected to the gardens below by a broad marble stairway. Well, the king had probably more than enough money to afford that kind of frivolity.

"So. Why are we out here?" Meredith wanted to know, turning away from the dark gardens to look at the prince, who was watching her with a strange expression.

"I wanted to test something," Sheppard said ominously and took a step closer.

"Test something? Wha-mmmmph!" Without warning, Sheppard's mouth descended on Meredith's. She froze, standing stock-still as Sheppard's warm, soft lips brushed across her own in a gentle caress, her hands clenching at her sides. Sheppard had his eyes closed, the lashes resting lightly on his cheeks. Heart pounding in her chest, Meredith found herself wanting to brush a finger across them, to see if they'd feel as silky as they looked. _No, this is wrong, this is all wrong! And if he ever finds out the truth, he's going to have you publicly quartered._

Sheppard pulled back, leaving Meredith to catch her breath even though the kiss had been entirely chaste, nothing to make a fuss about. Nothing to get wistful over.

"What… what kind of an experiment was that?" Meredith demanded shakily, and Sheppard had the grace to take a step back and get a little distance between them before he answered.

"Look. You know I have to choose a bride tonight. I'd rather it were you than anyone else."

"_What_? No!"

"Why not? If this is about not being a virgin-"

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that no man has ever touched me!" Because neither had any man wanted to, nor had Meredith – Rodney – anticipated to desire such a thing.

The prince was frowning now, looking deeply confused. "Then why not? You're at a bride-finding ball, I'm picking you as my bride. That's how it goes." His face cleared as he seemed to think of something. "Is it love?" he asked gently. "A lot of marriages start with friendship and grow into something deeper. Don't you think we could try that?"

Perhaps it was time to try another strategy, as plain refusal obviously wasn't working. "You're right," Meredith agreed, shyly avoiding the prince's gaze and looking into the brightly-lit ballroom. "Do you want to tell your father?"

"Yeah." Sheppard smiled at her, making her face flush and her knees go wobbly as she remembered the kiss. "I'll tell him."

"All right." Meredith watched cheerfully as he turned to walk back into the palace. She waited until he was a good deal into the room, then she gathered up her stupid frilly gown and ran.

She was almost down the stairs into the garden when she heard Sheppard rush back onto the balcony.

"Meredith!"

Shit! Startled, she lost her footing, stumbling on the smooth steps. The left glass slipper broke with a crack and only luck prevented her from cutting her sole on the shards as they fell onto the stairs. Cursing stupid fairy godfathers with an overdeveloped sense for dramatics, and hopping along on one foot, Meredith pulled the other slipper off and flung it away into the darkness of the gardens as she ran.

"Meredith! Wait!"

_Don't look back. Looking back only slows you down._ Meredith took a few sharp turns to get out of Sheppard's sight, then she squatted down behind a bush that looked like a bird taking flight, and waited. Moments later she could hear Sheppard run past her, gravel crunching under his boots as he disappeared down the garden path. He was still calling her name.

She waited for another half hour, then she decided it should be safe to come out of hiding. And it was: she didn't meet a single person when she went to retrieve the carriage, or on the mile-long way home. Naturally the magic ran out halfway, so Rodney was left trotting down the dark road carrying a pumpkin, accompanied by a few mice, singing softly as he tried to sort out his hopelessly confused emotions.

_ "I never thought this could happen to me_

but before I knew we

shared a kiss.

Now I don't know what I should feel.

How could I not know I would desire

to be taken higher

than just this?"

He gestured glumly at his surroundings, at his threadbare clothing, his bare, dirty feet.

_ "I thought love was just a word,_

shows how stupid I can be…"

His voice trailed off, and the rest of the way he walked in silence.

~~~

"And this is all that's left of her?" King Landry eyed the glass slipper critically.

"Obviously, since the rest of her ran like I was a leper or something."

Landry sighed. The bride-finding ball had been a complete and total failure. John had actually found a bride only to have her run away from him, and Kavanagh… One look at his dejected cousin sitting in a miserable slump in a corner of the library, and the king could only shake his head. No maid had been _that_ desperate. But that wasn't the important thing; the important thing was that John had to agree to marry someone, and King Landry was damn right going to find that mysterious maid!

"All right, have it announced throughout the kingdom: the maid whom this glass slipper fits shall marry my son!" he declared. His son threw him an incredulous look.

"What? Look at it, that slipper's a size 7! There have to be at least a hundred girls in this kingdom who wear that!"

"Actually, I think it's a 7 ½," the king mused.

"Not the point!"

"So what if we end up with a lots of girls? I should think you'll be able to recognise the maid you wanted to take as your bride."

King Landry waved his son's protests away, and so the call went out to every maid in the kingdom: if the one should be found whom the slipper fit – and with a little bit of luck – she would get to marry the prince.

As predicted, hundreds of maidens came, and there were still a lot whose feet were the right size. Meredith wasn't among them, though, and the king watched with sorrow as his son stayed away from the castle and its assembly of girls for longer and longer periods of time.

But even as the search was widened to the surrounding kingdoms, the mysterious maid was not to be found.

~~~

When Rodney stepped out of the baker's shop, enough bread for a week in his ratty old sack, the prince was leaning against the porch, staring sightlessly across the street. Sheppard straightened as he heard Rodney's footsteps and gave him a small smirk, but it looked positively painful, a faint echo of the real thing. "Hey, Rodney."

Rodney made a face, but didn't comment as Sheppard fell into step with him. Ever since the ball, the prince had been almost pitifully dejected whenever he sought Rodney out, and Rodney was pretty sure that it was his fault. Meredith's. Whatever. Whenever they met, which was becoming more and more frequently, sooner or later John would try to figure out why his mystery maiden had run away. The reasons were sometimes self-derogatory, sometimes plain outlandish, and Rodney wished he could tell his friend the truth simply to put them both at ease. But he was afraid that admitting everything would just hurt everyone involved, literally in his case.

Besides, Rodney was just that little bit too egoistical to give up those encounters with the prince, who could still make his heart beat faster just by leaning a little too far into his space. Yes, Rodney was well and truly smitten and without a clue what to do about it. Radek had offered to turn him permanently into a girl, but that was just… no.

"So. How is the search going?" Rodney asked finally when it became obvious that Sheppard wasn't going to talk any time soon.

"I've given up on it," the prince answered glumly. Rodney threw him a stricken look – so that was the reason for today's particularly bad mood. To search after one's chosen bright for weeks only to admit defeat and start the whole farce all over again… that had to be horribly humiliating.

"So, another bride-finding ball?" he asked lightly, trying not to show how guilty he was feeling. Or how much the thought of Sheppard forcing a smile onto his face and dancing and finally marrying some twit he didn't even like sickened Rodney.

"Nah. Father's still convinced he can find her."

Sheppard very obviously didn't share that conviction, and before he knew it, Rodney found himself saying, "I'm sorry." He meant it, too; it wasn't just a platitude.

"Yeah. Me, too."

They walked in silence for a while, then Rodney cleared his throat and asked the question he had never dared to ask before: "Did, uh. Did you love her?"

Heart pounding in his throat he waited for the answer, but Sheppard just snorted. "Of course I didn't love her, Rodney. I barely knew her an hour."

"Could have been love at first kiss," Rodney joked, wincing at how fake his cheerfulness sounded to his own ears, but it was either that or betray how much Sheppard's careless words had hurt him. Which was completely irrational, but then again, so was love. Sheppard threw him a very strange look.

"Have I ever shown you the slipper?" the prince asked abruptly.

"Uh, no?"

"All right. Come on, let's go."

~~~

The slipper was kept in a glass case, and Rodney made a great show of studying it. John honestly didn't know what to make of it, but Rodney had been behaving strangely ever since that damn ball, and John was determined to find out why. Now.

He thought it might have something to do with Meredith. The similarities between her and Rodney had been too great to be a coincidence – maybe she was one of the dreaded stepsisters? But no, that would mean completely different parents. Sister then? Locked up at home by the same guy who had turned Rodney from a reasonably well-off man into an errand boy? Or maybe a cousin, and Rodney was simply jealous? Except that would mean John hadn't imagined the pained, longing glances Rodney kept shooting him when he thought himself unobserved. John wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that – especially since it meant basically having to choose between Meredith and Rodney. Between kingdom and-

John shook his head. Whatever the reason, this charade would end today.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked, nodding at the slipper. Rodney was fidgeting, looking deeply uncomfortable, but he nodded.

"Yeah," he echoed faintly, "pretty."

"Come on, let me show you the ballroom."

Rodney let himself be dragged away to the ballroom, where John spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

"This is where we danced. She was trying to lead, you know, but after I stepped on her foot a few times she gave up. And then I whisked her away to the balcony and asked her to be my bride."

Rodney's gaze flickered towards the door to the balcony – only he couldn't possibly know which one of the huge ornament glass doors was the right one, for the sun was shining in such an impossible angle that nothing but its glaring reflection could be seen. Rodney stiffened when he saw that, noticing too late that John had been watching him closely.

"I knew it!" John exclaimed, pointing a triumphant finger straight at the paling man. "You have the same eyes, and I never told anyone that I kissed her! So who is she? Your sister?"

Rodney stared at him with a panicked expression, his breathing fast and shallow and loud in the empty room. "I, I…"

"Rodney, calm down, no one's accusing you of anything," John said quickly, worried his friend might have a stroke. Rodney muttered something, his eyes still wide and afraid, and John put a soothing hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Say again?"

"Me, I-" Rodney wheezed, "it was me."

John pulled his hand back like it had been burned. "What do you mean, it was you?" he asked irritably. "Rodney, in case you hadn't noticed, you're a guy. Meredith was a girl. Don't lie to me."

"No, it was… it was me. I was at the ball."

"I don't like being played, McKay," John said coldly, but Rodney reached out to him and grabbed his wrist.

"No, listen. I had to warn you about my stepsisters, and there was this overachieving fairy godfather, and before I knew it I was in a pumpkin and a girl, and, and you kissed me! You said you'd rather it were me and that you wanted to start with friendship!" By now, Rodney looked ready to keel over any moment, so John dragged him over the one of the delicate chairs that were lining the wall, sat him down none too gently and pushed his head between his knees.

"Breathe," he ordered, and after two or three minutes of shaking and pitiful gasping for breath, Rodney finally seemed to realise that John wasn't going to kill him. He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and a little glassy, his face a mask of pure misery.

_"John, listen, I am sorry,"_ he started to sing softly, _"I really didn't know-_

I understand that you are mad.

It's better if I go."

"Now let's not be too hasty," John interrupted him, _"you caught me by surprise._

Seems Meredith and Rodney

had more in common than those eyes!"

"But I betrayed you!" Rodney protested. _"How can you forgive_

the way that I cheated you! How can you let me live?"

"Don't get so dramatic. You said you meant well.

Besides, this is really a relief,

I thought I had lost my mind." John grinned and shook his head, but Rodney's puzzled frown only deepened.

_"Did you hit your head or something?_

You don't make any sense

I tell you that your bride's a man; instead of yelling, you just grin!"

"No, look, I love you," John sang sincerely, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers and ignoring the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage. _"I have for some time._

I thought that I'd have to choose but now, Rodney, you're mine!"

"Now this is just crazy! And unsuitable, too!"

"Just say you don't want me and I won't ask again, but I want no one but you."

"You're crazy," Rodney whispered as John leaned in.

"Yeah. I know."

And then their lips met and nobody gave a damn about suitable or not anymore.

~~~

Rodney was smiling stupidly when he returned home, but he didn't care. John loved him! Even better, John didn't want him to become a girl! He'd said he'd talk with his father, and that there had to be some kind of solution.

The house was bustling with activity – it seemed that Kolya had guests. Rodney's face fell and he hurried to the kitchen door. If anyone had noticed he was gone, he'd be in for the beating of his life. Yanking the door open, he stopped short as he saw Kolya sitting on his narrow bed, calmly waiting for him.

"McKay. How nice of you to join us." At his words, two men stepped up behind Rodney and pushed him through the door and into the dimly lit kitchen. He caught his footing in time to avoid crashing into the table, but his pulse had started to speed up with the first stirrings of panic. This wasn't going to be an ordinary beating. This looked really, really bad.

"What-" Rodney had to clear his throat as his voice broke off, "what do you want?"

"Well, it seems you've had quite the busy afternoon, McKay. Wouldn't you agree?"

Rodney felt the blood drain from his face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, and Kolya backhanded him almost casually.

"Do you remember Chaya's friend Teer? Timid girl, works in the castle. She said she saw you kissing the prince."

"That's ridiculous! I wouldn't-"

"The fact is," Kolya went on, paying no attention to Rodney's protests, "I believe her. You're the reason the prince wouldn't marry any of my daughters, and really, McKay. I thought you were smarter than that."

"What… what are you going to do?" Rodney's voice was cracking on the last word, which made his stepfather grin. Kolya nodded at the men behind Rodney.

"Take him."

Suddenly, Rodney found himself grabbed by the arms and yanked back, dragged roughly to the door.

"He'll be looking for me!" he called desperately, struggling to free himself from the cruel grip.

Kolya smiled, and Rodney's blood ran cold. "Well, then I'll just have to let him find you."

~~~

A week without Rodney, and John was growing impatient and a little worried. They had agreed to meet on market day, except Rodney had never shown up. When John couldn't spot him between the stands and boxes the next time either, he decided he'd had enough. He knew where Rodney lived; he'd just go there himself.

Rodney had better not chickened out on him, John thought grimly as the large stone mansion came into view. After he'd had the screaming match to end all screaming matches with his father about duty and love and the good of the kingdom, the least Rodney owed him was a proper explanation for a break-up.

Although, maybe his stepfather had locked him up again. It wouldn't be the first time Rodney disappeared for a few days only to show up pale and bruised and disheartened. John could feel his blood pressure rise at the memory. If that man had laid one finger on Rodney-!

There was a small gathering of people dressed in black in front of the mansion. John approached them, feeling he should just ask directly for the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. "Excuse me." Heads turned, and people stared at him with varying degrees of surprise. "Where can I find Rodney McKay?"

A man disentangled himself from the group. It was Lord Kolya. Of course it was; after all, it had been _his_ daughters 'Meredith' had warned John away from. He must have been stupid not to draw that connection sooner.

"I'm here to see your stepson," John told the man with as much authority as he could muster, which was quite a lot. Kolya made a regretful face.

"My prince," he started, then broke off and turned around when the door to the mansion opened and four men stepped outside.

Carrying a coffin.

Something inside John froze even as he held his breath. "No," he whispered, but Kolya nodded solemnly.

"It was an accident, very tragic. Down in the kitchen." Kolya shook his head. "I'll admit I never liked McKay very much, but I never would have wished him such an end."

"I want to see him," John managed, his jaw muscles working painfully against the scream that wanted to claw its way out of his throat.

"My prince, it is really not a-"

"I want to see him." He'd never believe Rodney was dead unless he saw him. It simply was a mistake. It had to be.

"As you wish." Kolya nodded at the men and they set the coffin on the ground with a soft thump. John ignored the affronted whispers around him as he walked to the wooden box, fists clenching and unclenching with every step. He undid the clamps, opened the lid- and his breath hitched. Short, dark blond hair, work-roughened hands, the face an unrecognisable mass of open wounds and blistered skin, but the clothes, the figure…

He dropped the lid, his fingers numb as he stumbled back. _God, Rodney._

John's world shattered.

~~~

John sat in his study, staring sightlessly out of the window. It had been four days, and he still felt as dead and cold as he had when he'd glimpsed Rodney's poor, disfigured body. King Landry had been surprisingly understanding, but now his son's unwelcome lover was dead there was no reason why John shouldn't marry. Some time. When he was feeling a little better.

John didn't think he'd ever feel better. Hell, he didn't want to feel better. If his father wanted to marry him off, fine. What was it to him?

_"I don't care,"_ he sang softly, bitterly, _"his life is over and I just don't care_

about this marriage so just bring her here,

Elizabeth Weir."

Miles away, Rodney was standing at the window of his locked-up room, a hand pressed to the glass as he thought about John.

_ "God, I just don't care just what it takes to get out and away._

It's been too long already, I can't stay.

I have to escape!"

Kolya had him locked up and guarded by some brutes of questionable reputation who were treating Rodney none too gently, but he hardly even noticed. By now, Kolya would have told John that Rodney was dead, shown him the grave, perhaps even a corpse. Rodney was desperate to go back and show the prince he was alive, to kiss him and hold him and be held in return, no matter what anyone said about social norms. What had love have to do with suitableness?

Rodney slammed his fist against the glass, hard, but it held just like all the other times. God, he wished there was a way out of here!

~~~

"You know, this is much easier with girls. They wish for things all the time."

"Yes, yes, I'm a terrible person for trying to do things myself. Can't you make this thing go any faster?"

"We are going at top speed already, Rodney. Any faster, and the broom will catch fire."

"Well it's not fast enough! _You_ said John was getting married today! What kind of fairy godfather are you if you can't get me there in time?"

"Rodney-"

"No, you know what? I wish I were there, _right now._"

"Zig-ziggy-zoom!"

"See?" Rodney said smugly as they stood in front of the church. "That wasn't so hard."

~~~

The ceremony was well underway. John stood in front of the priest, next to his bride, his face carefully blank. Elizabeth Weir was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. A little old for a marriage, but it wasn't like John had any intention of touching her. He didn't think that would be a problem, though. Miss Weir seemed to be in this mostly for the influence it would gain her, not because she was smitten with John. Her reasoning might seem callous to some, but it wasn't, not really. She simply knew what she wanted to do and did what she had to in order to achieve it.

Elizabeth Weir wanted to make the world a better place.

Well, not John's. John's world was empty and bleak, and nothing would change that.

He didn't turn around when the church door was slammed open and someone started stomping down the aisle. He did, however, clench his bride's hand hard enough to make her gasp when he heard the impatient voice.

"Stop the ceremony right now!"

Slowly, so slowly, afraid he might be hallucinating, John turned around. And felt a pitiful sound die in his throat as he met Rodney's furious glare.

"Two weeks! That's how long I've been gone, and already you're marrying the first bimbo who throws herself at you!"

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth straightened, and a wild-haired man with glasses next to Rodney hurried to explain, "It's not personal, please don't take him serious."

Rodney, who was still glaring. "Well? Don't you want to explain yourself?"

John stumbled forward, his fingers digging into Rodney's biceps as he grabbed hold of the other man, felt warm skin underneath the thin shirt. "Rodney," he rasped, and then, "_Rodney,_" clinging to him like he might vanish if John let go even for a single moment. He buried his face in Rodney's neck, inhaling the warm familiar scent as his body started to shake. "I thought you were dead," he whispered, "I thought-"

"I'm not," Rodney said stupidly, bringing his arms up and around John's back, alive and whole and _there_ and god, _god..._ "John, I'm here, it's all right."

"No it's not," John muttered against his neck, loathe to let go. "I might have to kill your stepfather."

Rodney snorted. "Like I'd stop you. But you probably shouldn't be planning homicide when you're standing in a church."

It was such a Rodney thing to say that John had to kiss him, chaste at first, then more and more desperate when he realised that he had lost this, for four days he had _lost this,_ and having it back seemed too good to be true. Rodney returned John's kisses with equal fervour, then suddenly he pulled back, staring at the darkly glowering king and John's almost-bride.

"Uh, not that I want to kill the mood here, but what about…" He waved his hand, and John was still looking for a polite way to say that they could all go to hell as far as he was concerned, as long as Rodney was with him, when Miss Weir cleared her throat.

"Well, with John so obviously out of the equation," she said, a speculative gleam in her eyes, "I believe his father's cousin will ascend the throne."

Kavanagh perked up at that, and John chuckled as he pulled Rodney in for another kiss and the people around them started to dance.

Alive.

~~~

They ended up riding into the sunset together, with John in the safe knowledge that the kingdom was in good hands – Elizabeth's, not Kavanagh's. The king's cousin probably still didn't know what hit him. The thought made John smile. His smile widened at the memory of Lord Kolya, dragged away by the king's guards to spend the rest of his life rotting away in the lousiest cell the kingdom had to offer. That had been Rodney's idea. He said he didn't want John to live with the knowledge of having killed a man. John very carefully refrained from pointing out that he could easily live with the knowledge of having that particular man beaten up and tortured before finally killing him. He suspected that Rodney knew, anyway.

John threw a glance at his partner and caught him glaring at the setting sun. "What's wrong?"

"This is disgustingly cliché," Rodney grumbled, and John started to laugh.

"Stop that. You sound like a dying donkey."

John just laughed harder, nearly doubling over as he wheezed, "Never change."

Rodney grinned smugly, and they rode on. Five minutes later, John started to sing.

_"I am your donkey, and you're a dog with a bark._

We shouldn't fit well, still I swear there are sparks

and when we rest tonight, I'm gonna see if we can light up the room…"

"Oh, _please,_ what is this, cliché central? I'll have you know I-"

~~~

And they lived and sang and danced happily ever after.

The End.

SOMEBODY SHOOT ME NOW!


End file.
